The message went out at dawn.
All classes suspended for one week.
Pennington Lake Academy cited the need for "collective recovery" and "administrative restructuring." What it really meant was they were scrambling. Too many girls had broken. Too many whispers were circling. Too many stories were getting hard to bury.
I wasn't surprised.
The halls were mostly empty by noon. No professors. No lectures. Just the dull echo of half-attended cleanup crews and scattered gossip. I headed toward the service corridor behind the cafeteria, hoping to blend in and grab my shift schedule without dealing with too many people.
Didn't work.
Ms. Corley stood just inside the entrance, arms folded like she was expecting a fight.
"Zia. You're not in trouble. I just..." she trailed off, glancing toward t
